


Surfs Up, Guns Down

by ImmortalXe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-SEP, Slow Burn, Surfer!Gabriel, the beach boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9548225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalXe/pseuds/ImmortalXe
Summary: Gabriel Reyes has a lot on his mind—a surfing event that's looming over his head, what looks like a war on the horizon, and his upcoming shipment off to the military—so when he meets a farm boy from the middle of Fuckin'Nowhere, Indiana, it's another distraction he has to work with. But despite the stranger's distance and his cold, blue-eyed stare, he's picking up good vibrations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the playlists for the fic [[ here. ]](http://immortalxe.tumblr.com/playlists)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first interaction and not a single word exchanged, only hard gazes and a glimpse into what the future holds between them. As clear and ocean-filled as the blue of Jack’s eyes.

##   

####  _i._ Washed Up

 

* * *

  
  
Cool waves splash against worn down surfboards, the spray of water stinging the eyes of the company that occupies the sea. The salt overwhelming their senses, sight and smell exclusively. Gabriel Reyes watches beyond the sea line, straddling his shortboard with eyes squinting against the blazing sun even as it was starting to set itself below the horizon. Hues of orange and pink blossom throughout the sky.  
  
Gabriel’s the type of man who takes sentiment in these moments no matter how often he comes to witness them. He takes a snapshot within his head, storing the sight away with the countless others he already has. He shifts on his board, his body starting to itch under his wetsuit. Eyes shut as a cool breeze rolls through, ruffling his hair and soothing his mind.

“You guys hear about the new kid?” The question cuts through the moment like a knife slicing through butter. All eyes—4 sets in all—focus on the surfer who dared to interrupt the moment. They hold no qualms about it; things always have to end eventually. The source of the interruption, Ester is his name, gives off a sheepish grin as a head of damp, brown curls duck at the attention.  
  
The topic piques the interest of most of the group, though the rest remain indifferent. Gabriel finds himself only half listening. Gossip was never interesting enough to bother with; dull words about equally dull people.  
  
Another voice flows in, tone unimpressed, though a hint of true curiosity laces within the last question, “There’s always new kids ‘round here. Plus, you refer to everyone as a kid, so how much of a kid are they _really?”_ Jace (which is as close to a real name as anyone will get) asks, lying on their back across the board with one hand on their stomach, the other brushing over their own buzzcut. Glassy eyes don’t even spare a glance to Ester.  
  
A gasp of feigned shock echoes through; Ester has a hand over his heart as if wounded. “I do not! I only call people who are younger than me that and —”  
  
“Everyone is younger than you.”  
  
Ester carries on, as if uninterrupted. “— they may not be a kid-kid but I swear they’re at least 20. _At least.”_

“So what? My age then?” Gabriel throws in with eyes straying back to the vast sea around them. There are sputters and incoherent mumbles in response. "Shit, Gabo. I forgot you're so young."

Gabriel waves a hand dismissively. Age stopped being important to him. To all of them. "Everyone does," he replies, tone dry. "Anyway, tell us more about this new kid."

Ester throws a conflicting glance towards Gabriel (who ignores it entirely) before slouching his shoulders and carrying on with the topic. “Yeah, so, anyway.” A pause. “The new kid works down at The Shack. You know, the one just by the shore where the Guppies get their lunches from?" Murmurs of confirmed remembrance wade through.  
  
Ester continues. “He works real well with the kids, as well as any of us do. But with other people? Not so much. Tried getting some soda and the look he gave me almost had me wondering if I burned down his house rather than ask for a drink!” The exclamation finishes with a flurry of hand gestures and an expression of disbelief.

Breathless, gentle laughter rings out through the entirety of the group. Gabriel snorts, his hand coming up to give a subtle cover over the lower half of his face. “So, what? He look scary or something? Is it his face?” Gabriel inquiries, lips twitching up into a sly smirk with his arms crossing over his chest.  
  
"His face ain't bad. It's _the look._ It's either like you've just insulted all of his loved ones or he gives you this..." Ester trails off, eyes shifting to the side as his brow furrows. "Blank, cold stare. Ya don't know what he's thinking at all."

Ester shakes his head and straightens up as his trademark grin finds its way back onto his face; he goes on. “I think we just need to give him a warm welcome or somethin’. Show him that we’re actually nice people. How ‘bout it guys?” The group all look at each other, searching for any signs of objection. Some hesitation was present, maybe even doubt, but no one speaks up.  
  
Gabriel clears his throat before switching his position. His legs come up out of the water as he lays himself stomach down against the board, body flat. “The Guppies should be done with their surf lessons, right? We can at least go say hi.” It's an excuse. He knows it. As much as he enjoys seeing the kids, he's just as interested, if not more so, in seeing the guy who makes even _Ester_ feel unnerved. Gabriel paddles himself back to the shore, his calves cold from being exposed to the breeze after a time in the water.  
  
The group follows and he hears soft splashing as they paddle behind him. Ester sidles on past him in a hurry, being the first to reach the coastline. Gabriel watches as the man pushes himself off of the board, picking it up with practiced ease. Gabriel mimics the movement once he reaches the shore. He brushes the excess sand off the board and tucks it under his arm with some difficulty; it's still too big and too heavy, but he manages.

The group follows the routine one by one before they all turn their way to The Shack, the establishment within arms reach. Trudging their way through sand takes them longer than wanted, the boards giving all of them extra weight to lug around and think about. A mutual wave of relief is shared throughout the surfers once they reach the place, surfboards set to prop up against the wooden building with leashes being removed from their ankles.  
  
Gabriel stretches his arms above his head, feeling (and hearing) the pops as tension is released from the stiff muscles in his back and shoulders. The group follows his lead, half lunges are done to stretch legs and heads are bent to the side to relieve the tension in their necks. Gabriel sniffs, the smell of salt and grilling burgers in the air, before he looks off to the side. A bundle of kids is splashing their way through the whitewater and to the shack, their wetsuits colorful and vibrant.  
  
A grin crawls to his lips as he takes some steps closer to the gaggle of children, he crouches down and opens his arms wide. He braces for impact before feeling a small body slam into his chest. Gabriel lets himself tip over into the sand with a simple “oof” escaping his lips as little giggles fill his ears.  
  
“Gabi! Gabi! Gabi! Did you see me paddle from here to the green buoy? It’s the longest I’ve paddled for!” Cesar, Gabriel's pride and joy of a brother, says with clear excitement. Gabriel sits up slowly, pulling Cesar with him; he sets the boy to sit on his thighs.  
  
“Oh? I didn’t get to see it this time but I’m still proud of you, Ce! You’re learning so fast; you’ll surpass me in no time!” Gabriel grins down at his brother, bumping their foreheads together in encouragement before rubbing his nose against the boy’s. Cesar giggles as he pushes small hands against Gabriel’s face, shielding himself from the oncoming barrage of kisses.  
  
A loud clap brings the two brothers out of their affectionate show; Gabriel begins to lazily avert his attention to the source but is immediately distracted by the struggling weight he holds. Cesar squirms in his arms, little hands slapping against Gabriel’s cheeks. “Gabi it’s snack time and I’m really hungry!” Cesar drags out the ‘e’ for emphasis in a huff, cheeks puffing out as the older brother snuggles into the boy for a couple of seconds longer.  
  
“Ah, of course. Pro-surfers always need to refuel their energy.” Gabriel hums out in thoughtful understanding before giving another forehead bump to hold his brother’s stare. “What does mamá say, Ce?” The older male murmurs, rubbing his brother’s cheek softly with the pad of his thumb.

_“¡Surfea todo lo que quieras!”_

_“— y nunca te detengas.”_

The brothers finish the phrase in unison as Gabriel smiles, pressing one last kiss to the young surfer's nose (he hides the grimace at the lingering of salt and sand that he tastes) before releasing the child. Cesar scrambles off of his lap and hops over to the other Guppies, all bouncing excitedly at the prospect of food.  
  
Gabriel rises from his position in the sand, brushing off what he can of the grainy mess that sticks to him. A warm hand slaps his back making him sputter in surprise. He glances to the side catching the Guppies’ surf instructor—she insists on being called Ky—smiling at him; mirth dances in her eyes before she speaks, “You coddle him too much, you know that?” It’s said more like a statement than a question and a snort follows it.  
  
“I think I coddle him just the right amount.”  
  
“Right amount for what? _An elephant?”_  
  
“He has the passion the size of one, so maybe- yeah.”  
  
This, in turn, receives an eye roll which Gabriel knows holds no real heat behind. The noise from the children increases as every second passes and Ky takes this as a sign to dismiss herself. Another slap to the back before she strides away, throwing a farewell wave (though they both know they’ll see each other in a couple of moments) over her shoulder.  
  
Gabriel notices the other surfers occupying the opening of The Shack waiting for the new worker. Chatter among them is kept leveled to make sure they don’t disturb the other beachgoers, even if there were rarely any. No one ever visits the beach during the middle of the week. Especially not now. Especially not since the first raids.  
  
Shivers wrack Gabriel's body (he likes to believe it's just from the wetsuit and the wind picking up), and he does his best to shake it off. The male slides over to the group, slotting himself between the two closest surfers as he listens to the conversation, waiting for a moment to hop in. A quick hiss of a whisper has the group fall into a hush, watching as Ester throws knowing looks behind him.  
  
A tall blond man that holds a mature air (yet he carries young features, putting a doubt on the label “man”) steps into the sun from the back door of The Shack, balancing a tray in his arms. His pale hair shimmers in the sunlight as a bright smile graces his face, but the smile’s only targets are the Guppies. Gabriel catches the man side-eye the group of surfers and the smile falters for a second but then returns wider than before; more forced than before.  
  
“Hey lil’ cornstalks,” the nickname has a good portion of the surfers reeling, unsure if they had really just heard that. “You guys hungry enough to fuel up on some tater tots and mini corn dogs?” The tone of the man’s voice is light and friendly, the children jump around him with buzzing energy. The word ‘yes’ and the name ‘Mr. Jack’ is heard from little voices. Jack? The name is shockingly plain yet somehow fitting.  
  
‘Jack’ places the tray that holds the plates of piled up tots and corn dogs onto one of the outside tables, backing away to let the kids ravage the food rather than him. The smile turns fond and real as Jack watches the children eat as fast they can while simultaneously keeping up babbling conversations between them.

Gabriel watches the man, focusing on the clear blue of his eyes. Although the look in them seems soft there’s still a hint of hesitation present. The crease in Jack’s brow and his small squint gives it all away. Like he can only guess that what he’s doing is right. Like he’s never really done anything like this before.

Blue eyes snap wide before narrowing into slits, Jack’s head whips to the side with his hard gaze flitting over to the surfers, more specifically to Gabriel. There’s a moment of shock as their gazes meet, especially as the blue eyes Gabriel had just been examining are now intently trained on him. The look is cold and hard as they stare the surfer down. It makes him falter slightly—had the blond really felt him staring? Was it that obvious?— as embarrassment curls in his gut. It’s only his stubbornness that keeps their eyes locked into a staredown. Neither of them is willing to back away from the challenge.

Confusion wavers in Jack’s eyes, clearly not expecting Gabriel to accept the stare down. The shock is gone just as fast as it came, blue eyes narrow again in determination to win the makeshift battle. Gabriel’s confidence slowly builds back up; he straightens out his back and squares his shoulders as the staredown continues.

The battle would’ve gone on for who knows how long had it not been for Ky cuffing the back of Gabriel’s neck, or Cesar grappling onto Jack’s leg. Either way, both men were brought out of the staredown realizing how ridiculous the whole ordeal probably looked. Maybe equally as embarrassing for the both of them. Their first interaction and not a single word exchanged, only hard gazes and a glimpse into what the future holds between them. As clear and ocean-filled as the blue of Jack’s eyes.

Gabriel shoulders Ky in response, gaze tearing away from The Shack worker. _That’s a nice way to welcome someone,_ Gabriel thinks with a grimace. He’ll try and right it later (maybe tomorrow?), but right now he has other things to put his mind to.

 

* * *

 

It’s early morning—about six a.m. if he thinks back to his last time check—when Gabriel returns to the beach. Rarely anyone is found at this time, especially since the waters don’t warm up for another two hours. He only ventures out this early when he has a morning surf lesson he needs to prepare for. His first student wouldn’t even arrive until at least nine. The sky is still a pale orange, more clouds than usual litter the sky; the sun won’t fully rise for another half an hour. It feels chilly in the wetsuit he wears. Gabriel sighs.

When the surfer heads down to The Shack to use one of the outside tables as a place to rest his board as he waxes and cleans it, he doesn’t expect to run into anyone. Especially not who stands before him now, ocean blue eyes wide in mutual surprise. They’re both stunned into silence for a good couple of seconds, just a few feet of distance between them.

Gabriel slowly sets the shortboard down onto a table; his duffel bag going onto the bench, taking out a wax scraper and an old towel. Only the midsection of the board has a secure spot on the table. The board being longer than the length of the surface it rests on.

Gabriel’s the first one to acknowledge the situation at hand. The surfer clears his throat and keeps his voice low, thinking it too early to raise it more than needed. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here so early in the morning.” He admits, scraping off leftover wax from the deck of his board as he side-eyes the other man. There’s a quiet hush once more, the squawking of seagulls and the splashing of waves occupy the silence. A gentle breeze rolls through, the soft whistling settles over them.

The worker finally speaks, “Me neither. No one’s been this early for the past three days.” Jack—Gabriel only barely remembers the name—clicks his tongue as he opens up the outside shutters to the windows of the establishment.

The surfer mulls over the piece of information before asking, “That when you started workin’ here then?”

“Yeah. Not too long.” The reply from Jack is instant and a shrug accompanies it.

Gabriel hums as his gaze tears away from the blond, focus turning to his board. “Hm, well new guy, just so you know: you’ll be seeing me whenever I have surfing lessons to teach in the morning. Which is around this time every Thursday, Friday, and Sunday.” Gabriel’s hand pauses in the middle of a polish, eyes squinting in confusion. “But why are _you_ here so early? On Thursdays, The Shack doesn’t usually start getting ready until eight. That’s two hours from now.” His body turns to the worker, dark brown eyes giving an inquisitive glance.

Their gazes meet for a quick second before Jack’s lips pull back as he looks off to the side. “I like making something special for the kids, decided that coming over early every morning would be best for it.” The worker explains, a hand scratching his arm anxiously.

“That’s…” Gabriel’s brow furrows as he turns back to checking his board for any stray specks. “Nice, actually.”

“The kids deserve something nice after practicing so hard.” Jack murmurs and goes to occupy himself by sweeping the small wooden terrace that surrounds the shack; the terrace stopping at where the wooden picnic tables sit in the sand. Quiet resumes after this point, both males unsure of how to continue the conversation.

Gabriel shifts restlessly as he does a double check on his board, not wanting to leave any stray areas of wax. Excess wax doesn’t do well left on a board and it makes applying a new coat harder than necessary. He whistles small tunes as he wipes down the deck of his shortboard one more time, the sharpness of his whistles disrupts the uncomfortable quiet.

Shuffles of feet and bristles of a broom against wood are the only sounds left after the whistling slowly dies down. There’s a lot that could strike up a conversation between them, they were practically strangers that (technically) weren’t even aware of each other’s names. The silence was getting to them—or maybe it was just getting to Gabriel?—and the surfer was dying to end it.

“So… where’d you live before here?” Gabriel finds himself asking, eyes shifting over the worker. The blond pauses in his final round of sweeping before rolling his shoulders back and leaning the broom against the outside of the hut. The question seems to have caught the worker off guard, shown by the crease in his brows and slight squint in his eyes.

“The Midwest.” The answer is simple and vague, too vague, that it has Gabriel falter as he puts the scraper and towel away in his bag. The surfer has to think about where the Midwest was or what states it even consists of.

Finally, Gabriel snorts while quirking a brow as he examines the other man. "The Midwest? You gotta be a little more specific than that. I've never been able to travel. Been stuck here, a surfer to the pacific forever." The information is simple, but it still feels as though he was telling Jack too much. More than he should. 

Jack skips over Gabriel's request for more information and the surfer expects nothing else. "If I saw you in any other setting, I wouldn't have expected for you to be a surfer. No less a surf instructor." The admission itself from the Midwesterner isn't much to think about, but the underlying meaning is there. It cloys Gabriel's mind. Is he looking too far into the words?  

"Why?" Gabriel starts before he can stop himself, turning his head away yet still keeping his gaze on the blond from the corner of his eye. Smooth brown eyes narrow. "Is it because I'm not the white, golden, beach god you see in the movies?" It's a bold accusation and he doesn’t dare get bolder, too wary of the reaction it can produce. The admission shouldn't have been bothering him as much as he's letting it.  
  
Jack's expression remains indifferent, eyes squinting to the almost-fully-risen sun. "Maybe." The response is so sure, so mundane that it makes the topic seem so unimportant. Perhaps to Jack it was. "I just don't know what a surfer looks like. Back on the farm, the beach was too far to even think about."  
  
Gabriel catches the flash of guilt in Jack's eyes, only shown by the quick flicker of his gaze. It would have been missed if he weren't watching the blue-eyed stare so intently. The answer is understandable and Gabriel feels himself shrug (yet the itching aggravation from Jack's words is still present). "Should've guessed from a farm boy." The surfer isn't sure what he means as he says this, but Jack doesn't seem to care for it either way. The half-assed taunt reaches deafened ears. The tension that follows is suffocating, Gabriel ponders on the thought of just leaving the situation now. Leaving before either of them can make it worse.

Jack’s the first one to speak up, and when he does it’s a lame excuse of a whisper; it resembles more of a sigh. “I’m—” An exhale fills the pause. “—sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that, I guess I just didn’t know what else to bring up. I’m not the best at choosing what I say.” The blond doesn’t mention his skipping of information, but it seems unimportant for now.

Gabriel dwells on the apology, he doesn’t accept it, at least not right away. “Yeah, it’s…” Trailing off, the surfer isn’t sure how to continue. “It’s whatever. Just keep stuff like that to yourself.” He finishes in a gruff whisper as eyes turn to the sea, not daring to watch the blond any further. This feels a lot worse than their first staredown. Gabriel should have just left it at that.

It stays tensely quiet for a good couple of minutes. Jack shifting restlessly on the terrace before slipping off into the back of The Shack. A quiet murmur of “wait there,” comes from the worker. Gabriel isn’t sure why he listens to the Midwesterner, but he keeps in place anyway. Maybe it was the curiosity that has him rooted to where he is. Maybe it’s to see how else they can fuck this up.

The blond returns and makes his way into the sand where Gabriel stands, plastic solo cups in his hold. The surfer eyes the cup warily as Jack offers it to him, only taking it within his grasp after a couple of nudges. Looking inside he squints down at the powdered-sugar covered chex mix inside. Chex mix? Not at all what he was expecting.

“What is it?” Gabriel inquiries, sniffing the contents to pick up on the smell of peanut butter and sweeter ingredients within the mix. The snack looks good and smells sweet, but he waits for an explanation.

“It’s Puppy Chow.” Jack’s reply garners an odd look from Gabriel; the blond just pops one of the chex pieces into his mouth as he looks away. He talks as he chews. “Hope you aren’t allergic to peanuts. It’s just… chex mix with peanut butter and chocolate. It’s kind of popular back in Indiana.” Jack throws a handful into his mouth. “That’s where I’m from.” He adds as he glances to Gabriel carefully, blue eyes quickly shifting down to the cup in the California man’s hands.

Gabriel doesn’t expect the tidbit of information from Jack and he’s (pleasantly) surprised that it comes in the form of food. “Weird name for a snack.” Is all he says before trying some himself. The taste is oddly familiar, though the peanut butter overpowers the chocolate. He never really liked peanut butter all that much, but this isn’t too bad. “Good taste, at least. You’re lucky I’m not allergic or this apology wouldn’t have worked.” Gabriel teases as he snacks on some more of the Chow looking over at Jack for his reaction. A small smile is visible on the worker’s pale lips, and the sight of it catches Gabriel off guard. The surfer sucks in a quick breath and shovels more of the chex mix into his mouth, gaze averting away from the blond. He can’t help the minuscule smile that slips onto his lips in response.

Jack looks back to the water, his free hand running through blond hair. “Glad you like it then. It’s one of the things I made for the Guppies today. Made sure that none of ‘em had any allergies.” He clarifies with a shift of his stance, resorting to something more relaxed.

Gabriel mimics the movement, feeling a bit better as the tension between them lifts like a hefty weight vanishing. Though, the words from earlier still nip at the back of his mind, never truly relenting. The silence consumes the air around them, comfortable for the most part. Both males toss their cups into a bin that idles by.

“I guess I should go back to food prepping,” Jack finally says, his stare distant as he watches the rising sun above the sea. “You probably need to warm up, right?” The blond sniffs while scratching the back of his neck as he glances to Gabriel. Their eyes don’t meet; Jack’s gaze resting on the surfer’s chin, not willing to induce eye contact.

“Ah, yeah, my board’s usually waxed up and in the water by now. Forgot about time.” Gabriel hastily pulls his HoloPad out of his bag and checks. 6:32 am. Not much time has passed after all. He still has more than two hours until his first student even steps foot onto the beach. The HoloPad returns to the duffel bag. “Scratch that, I guess I have time. What—” The surfer pauses, only now noticing his implication at sticking around. “—what else are you making?”

Jack is already at the entrance of The Shack when Gabriel asks, the inquiry unexpected for the both of them. The worker hesitates, eyes shifting to the inside of the hut before moving back to Gabriel. Eye contact is made for once, ocean blue asses warm wooden brown. “I was going to make more Puppy Chow.”

“... Mind if I join you? It’d be nice to know how to make a snack that Ce would probably eat.” Gabriel takes small, unsure steps onto the terrace. He bites the inside of his cheek as Jack turns his body to put them face to face. The blond donning an inquisitive expression.

“Ce?”

“My little brother. Cesar. He’s one of the Guppies, ‘think he was clinging to your leg yesterday.”

“Oh, right, yeah I remember him.” Jack smiles fondly for a brief second before smoothing his features out to indifference once again. “I— sure. Just follow me, I guess.” The worker hesitates for a moment but then quickly turns back to the shack and steps in; Gabriel follows close behind.

The Shack sits dim on the inside with only sunlight filtering through the many open windows providing natural lighting. The small establishment was made almost entirely of wood, only the decor being of different material. Surfboards and pictures hang up upon the walls, some items signed by surfers from a time long ago, some just to be pretty. Tables and benches were built into the walls, leaving a spacious walkway in the middle of the shack. A full wooden counter that extends from wall to wall with a register and an old fashioned radio sat where the open space led to. Above the counter, a shortboard hangs from short chains in the ceiling, the menus engraved into it. Clever.

Jack pulls up a hatch in the counter, stepping through the space with Gabriel right behind him. The hatch falls back into place after them. An entryway in the wall behind the counter greets the two, Jack entering first as he flicks on the lights. The floor turns to concrete, a metal fridge nestles in the corner, fryers line the walls next to that, a grill and oven stand place next, and on the opposite wall is one tiny sink plus a soda station that sits on a wooden counter. The back door—where Gabriel had first seen Jack yesterday—sits on the wall to his far right.

“I’ve never been back here before, didn’t think there was this much going on.” Gabriel murmurs in surprise, his hand trailing down the cold metal of the fridge.

“Well we do have a full menu, we need to cook and store the food somehow.” Jack reminds him, a brief expression of amusement on his features as he nudges Gabriel away from where he stands in front of the stove.

“Ah, shit that’s right.” The surfer laughs sheepishly, forgetting that The Shack sells more than just soda and water. Gabriel looks on with interest as he watches Jack pull a bag of chocolate chips of off the wooden counter where the soda fountain sits. The brunet only now noticing that jars of peanut butter, bags of chocolate, boxes of chex mix, and a container of powdered sugar resting on the counter. He also notes the saucepan already on the stove.

“Puppy Chow is probably the easiest thing to make,” Jack says, handing Gabriel the bag, pushing it softly to the surfer’s chest. “Just… mix the chocolate and peanut butter over low heat until they’re completely melted together.” He instructs as he grabs a jar of peanut butter, looking at Gabriel expectedly.

Warm brown eyes shift rapidly between the chocolate against his chest and Jack who has mirth in those clear, blue eyes of his. “How much chocolate do I even put in?” Gabriel asks, turning the stove on in a rush as he holds the bag carefully. He knew how to cook, but learning new recipes was always a hassle (even if they were easy).

“A fourth of the bag, maybe? Add however much you... want…” The hesitant pause indicates that something should’ve been added to the sentence, but Jack stays quiet instead. Gabriel raises a brow and peeks over at the other man, a flush and a look of disdain are present on the worker’s face.

“You okay there?” Gabriel asks, cautiously pouring all of the chocolate chips into the pan.

“We never shared names. I don’t know your name.”

_“...Ah.”_

The two stand there quietly, both feeling foolish at this sudden realization. Although, on Gabriel’s part, he had already known Jack’s name when he just wasn’t supposed to yet.

“Gabriel, or just Gabe. Whatever s’fine.” The surfer finally shares, tossing a sheepish grin to Jack.

“Jack. Just… Jack.” The blond replies, the edge of his lips twitching up into a small, awkward smile in return. It’s the thought that counts.

They dwell in the momentary silence before Gabriel decides to break it. “So, _Jack,_ what next?” He asks, finally getting the chance to test the name aloud. It rolls off his tongue just like any other common name. It was nice hearing himself saying it for once. The surfer tosses the empty bag of chocolate as the peanut butter and a spatula finds their way into his hands.

“Scoop as much peanut butter as you want and dump it right in.”

And Gabriel does just that, using the rubber spatula that Jack had given him, he scrapes out less than half of the jar, plopping it on top of the chocolate in the pan. “So, just stir, yeah?”

“Yup.”

Gabriel hums with a nod and starts to mix the two ingredients, watching as they slowly melt and fold into each other. The smell of rich chocolate and creamy peanut butter waft through the kitchen, calming whatever nerves the surfer had left. His wetsuit will hold this smell until the salt of the sea overpowers it when he goes to warm up later.

“I’ll get the chex mix ready while you do that, Gabe.”

Gabriel falters as his heart jumps at the use of his name, the blond using it so _casually_ it’s as if they’ve known each other for more than a day. He doesn’t know why it affects him but it does. He mixes faster, grip tightening around the spatula handle.

“You’re going to break that thing if you hold it any tighter.” Comes Jack’s voice from behind him, making Gabriel pause in surprise as he looks at the other man. A bowl of chex mix rests in his hold before he places it onto the counter.

Gabriel relaxes his grip and grins apologetically. “Just thought that mixing faster would speed up the process.” He jokes with a shrug. He gets a quirk of a pale brow and a look of amused disbelief in response.

They work in companionable silence after that, Gabriel mixing at a normal pace as time ticks on by. It’s twenty minutes in when Jack places a hand on the surfer’s wrist, stopping his movements. The contact is unexpected, Gabriel choking in surprise. The surfer abruptly pulls his hand away, Jack not seeming to care about the harsh pull away, expression still indifferent.

“Looks about done. Now, just turn off the stove and pour the chex into the mix.” The worker instructs, waving a hand over to the bowl that idles on the counter.

Gabriel sniffs and nods, pulling the chex to his chest with one hand before pouring the cereal into the pan. Warm brown eyes watch as the pieces drown in chocolate and peanut butter. The bowl is set aside as he starts to mix harshly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack frown.

“Ease up, Gabe.”

Despite himself, he listens, his movements slowing down as he starts to fold the pieces into the mixture. The surfer makes sure that it’s well put together before stopping, looking at Jack expectantly.

The worker leans over and checks the mix, eyes squinting before he nods. “Looks good, nice job.” He compliments, a smile—a _warm_ smile—gracing his features.

Gabriel grins back with a duck of his head. “Yeah, wasn’t that hard to make. I’ll have you to thank when I make it for Ce.” He says, placing the spatula to the side. He’ll let Jack take care of the Chow in the pan.

“I’ll take that thanks,” Jack says, his smile present for a few seconds longer before it slips away. Indifference once again. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer, you probably need to warm up before the lesson, right?”

At that, Gabriel pauses. He’d completely forgotten. “Shit— you’re right,” He curses in a haste, patting himself off as he looks around the kitchen for anything that was his before he remembers that all of his belongings were outside. Gabriel hurries over to the back door of the shack, hesitating as he slowly pushes a hand to it. “We… we should do something like this again. Except, maybe, I teach you something? Just to make it even?” He doesn’t know why he makes this proposition, they only just met and for most of the time, it was uncomfortably tense between them.

He has to admit that this was nice, at least. And he’d rather not feel indebted to Jack for teaching him how to make Puppy Chow. So, a proposition it is.

Jack, in turn, shifts in his spot in front of the stove. Blue eyes pierce through Gabriel, quietly assessing. It takes a long couple of moments before a response is given. “Alright.” Is all that’s said at first. “How about you teach me the basics of surfing?”

And Gabriel breathes a sigh of relief, thanking whoever that Jack chose surfing as repayment. “Yeah, yeah I can do that.” He agrees, another grin on his lips.

Jack’s awkward smile returns. “We’ll talk about it when you’re done. Go out there and catch some waves.” The blond gently raises a hand in a “surfs up” sign.

Gabriel returns the hand gesture and finally pushes his way out the door. His heart pounds as he grabs his board and bag from off of the table, sprinting down to the coastline. The smell of peanut butter and chocolate follows after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translations :
> 
> • _"Surfea todo lo que quieras"_ \- "Surf all you want"
> 
> • _"Y nunca te detengas"_ \- "And never stop"
> 
>  Shoutout to [Ash/Kerrigore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerrigore/pseuds/Kerrigore) for beta reading for me, [Luke/Annadroid](http://archiveofourown.org/users/annadroid/pseuds/annadroid) for helping with the fic summary (+ the Beach Boys reference), and [Wade/monzi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/monzi/pseuds/Wade) for Spanish translations. And artwork made by [Nekiwii.](http://olliverri.tumblr.com/) Thanks for all the help!


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